A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX - Various
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[_Exeunt_ O. ART. _and_ O. LUS.
Y. LUS. Sweet saint! continue still this patience,
For time will bring him to true penitence.
Mirror of virtue! thanks for my good cheer--
A thousand thanks.
MRS ART. It is so much too dear;
But you are welcome for my husband's sake;
His guests shall have best welcome I can make.
Y. LUS. Than marriage nothing in the world more common;
Nothing more rare than such a virtuous woman.
[_Exit_.
MRS ART. My husband in this humour, well I know,
Plays but the unthrift; therefore it behoves me
To be the better housewife here at home;
To save and get, whilst he doth laugh and spend:
Though for himself he riots it at large,
My needle shall defray my household's charge.
[_She sits down to work in front of the house_.
FUL. Now, Master Anselm, to her, step not back;
Bustle yourself, see where she sits at work;
Be not afraid, man; she's but a woman,
And women the most cowards seldom fear:
Think but upon my former principles,
And twenty pound to a drachm,[7] you speed.
ANS. Ay, say you so?
FUL. Beware of blushing, sirrah,
Of fear and too much eloquence!
Rail on her husband, his misusing her,
And make that serve thee as an argument,
That she may sooner yield to do him wrong.
Were it my case, my love and I to plead,
I have't at fingers' ends: who could miss the clout,
Having so fair a white, such steady aim.
This is the upshot: now bid for the game.
[ANSELM _advances_.
ANS. Fair mistress, God save you!
FUL. What a circumstance
Doth he begin with; what an ass is he,
To tell her at the first that she is fair;
The only means to make her to be coy!
He should have rather told her she was foul,
And brought her out of love quite with herself;
And, being so, she would the less have car'd,
Upon whose secrets she had laid her love.
He hath almost marr'd all with that word fair. [_Aside_.[8]]
ANS. Mistress, God save you!
FUL. What a block is that,
To say, God save you! is the fellow mad?
Once to name God in his ungodly suit.
MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. Come you to speak with me
Or with my husband? pray you, what's your will?
FUL. She answers to the purpose; what's your will?
O zounds, that I were there to answer her.
ANS. Mistress, my will is not so soon express'd
Without your special favour, and the promise
Of love and pardon, if I speak amiss.
FUL. O ass! O dunce! O blockhead! that hath left
The plain broad highway and the readiest path,
To travel round about by circumstance:
He might have told his meaning in a word,
And now hath lost his opportunity.
Never was such a truant in love's school;
I am asham'd that e'er I was his tutor.
MRS ART. Sir, you may freely speak, whate'er it be,
So that your speech suiteth with modesty.
FUL. To this now could I answer passing well.
ANS. Mistress, I, pitying that so fair a creature--
FUL. Still fair, and yet I warn'd the contrary.
ANS. Should by a villain be so foully us'd,
As you have been--
FUL. _As you have been_--ay, that was well put in!
ANS. If time and place were both convenient[9]--
Have made this bold intrusion, to present
My love and service to your sacred self.
FUL. Indifferent, that was not much amiss.
MRS ART. Sir, what you mean by service and by love,
I will not know; but what you mean by villain,
I fain would know.
ANS. That villain is your husband,
Whose wrongs towards you are bruited through the land.
O, can you suffer at a peasant's hands,
Unworthy once to touch this silken skin,
To be so rudely beat and buffeted?
Can you endure from such infectious breath,
Able to blast your beauty, to have names
Of such impoison'd hate flung in your face?
FUL. O, that was good, nothing was good but that;
That was the lesson that I taught him last.
ANS. O, can you hear your never-tainted fame
Wounded with words of shame and infamy?
O, can you see your pleasures dealt away,
And you to be debarr'd all part of them,
And bury it in deep oblivion?
Shall your true right be still contributed
'Mongst hungry bawds, insatiate courtesans?
And can you love that villain, by whose deed
Your soul doth sigh, and your distress'd heart bleed?
FUL. All this as well as I could wish myself.
MRS ART. Sir, I have heard thus long with patience;
If it be me you term a villain's wife,
In sooth you have mistook me all this while,
And neither know my husband nor myself;
Or else you know not man and wife is one.
If he be call'd a villain, what is she,
Whose heart and love, and soul, is one with him?
'Tis pity that so fair a gentleman
Should fall into such villains' company.
O, sir, take heed, if you regard your life,
Meddle not with a villain or his wife. [_Exit_.
FUL. O, that same word villain hath marr'd all.
ANS. Now where is your instruction? where's the wench?
Where are my hopes? where your directions?
FUL. Why, man, in that word villain you marr'd all.
To come unto an honest wife, and call
Her husband villain! were he[10] ne'er so bad,
Thou might'st well think she would not brook that name
For her own credit, though no love to him.
But leave not thus, but try some other mean;
Let not one way thy hopes make frustrate clean.
ANS. I must persist my love against my will;
He that knows all things, knows I prove this will.
_Exeunt_.
ACT II., SCENE I.
_A School_.
_Enter_ AMINADAB, _with a rod in his hand, and_
BOYS _with their books_.
AMIN. Come, boys, come, boys, rehearse your parts,
And then, _ad prandium; jam, jam, incipe_!
1ST BOY. Forsooth, my lesson's torn out of my book.
AMIN. _Quae caceris chartis deseruisse decet_.
Torn from your book! I'll tear it from your breech.
How say you, Mistress Virga, will you suffer
_Hic puer bonae[11] indolis_ to tear
His lessons, leaves, and lectures from his book?
1ST BOY. Truly, forsooth, I laid it in my seat,
While Robin Glade and I went into _campis_;
And when I came again, my book was torn.
AMIN. _O mus_, a mouse; was ever heard the like?
1ST BOY. _O domus_, a house; master, I could not mend it.
2D BOY. _O pediculus_, a louse; I knew not how it came.
AMIN. All toward boys, good scholars of their times;
The least of these is past his accidence,
Some at _qui mihi_; here's not a boy
But he can construe all the grammar rules.
_Sed ubi sunt sodales_? not yet come?
Those _tarde venientes_ shall be whipp'd.
_Ubi est_ Pipkin? where's that lazy knave?
He plays the truant every Saturday;
But Mistress Virga, Lady Willow-by,[12]
Shall teach him that _diluculo surgere
Est saluberrimum_: here comes the knave.
_Enter_ PIPKIN.
1ST BOY. _Tarde, tarde, tarde_.
2D. BOY. _Tarde, tarde, tarde_.
AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin--reach a better rod--
_Cur tam tarde venis_? speak, where have you been?
Is this a time of day to come to school?
_Ubi fuisti_? speak, where hast thou been?
PIP. _Magister, quomodo vales_?
AMIN. Is that _responsio_ fitting my demand?
PIP. _Etiam certe_, you ask me where I have been, and I say _quomodo
vales_, as much as to say, come out of the alehouse.
AMIN. Untruss, untruss! nay, help him, help him!
PIP. _Quaeso, preceptor, quaeso_, for God's sake do not whip me:
_Quid est grammatica_?
AMIN. Not whip you, _quid est grammatica_, what's that?
PIP. _Grammatica est_, that, if I untruss'd, you must needs whip me
upon them, _quid est grammatica_.
AMIN. Why, then, _dic mihi_, speak, where hast thou been?
PIP. Forsooth, my mistress sent me of an errand to fetch my master from
the Exchange; we had strangers at home at dinner, and, but for them, I
had not come _tarde; quaeso, preceptor_!
AMIN. Construe your lesson, parse it, _ad unguem
et condemnato_ to, I'll pardon thee.
PIP. That I will, master, an' if you'll give me leave.
AMIN. _Propria quae maribus tribuuntur mascula, dicas; expone, expone_.
PIP. Construe it, master, I will; _dicas_, they say--_propria_, the
proper man--_quae maribus_, that loves marrow-bones--_mascula_,
miscalled me.
AMIN. A pretty, quaint, and new construction.
PIP. I warrant you, master, if there be marrow-bones in my lesson,
I am an old dog at them. How construe you this, master, _rostra
disertus amat_?
AMIN. _Disertus_, a desert--_amat_, doth love--_rostra_, roast-meat.
PIP. A good construction on an empty stomach. Master, now I have
construed my lesson, my mistress would pray you to let me come home
to go of an errand.
AMIN. Your _tres sequuntur_, and away.
PIP. _Canis_ a hog, _rana_ a dog, _porcus_ a frog,
_Abeundum est mihi_. [_Exit_.
AMIN. Yours, sirrah, too, and then _ad prandium_.
1ST BOY. _Apis_ a bed, _genu_ a knee, _Vulcanus_, Doctor Dee:
_Viginti minus usus est mihi_.
AMIN. By _Juno's_ lip and _Saturn's_ thumb
It was _bonus, bona, bonum_.
2D BOY. _Vitrum_ glass, _spica_ grass, _tu es asinus_, you are an ass.
_Precor tibi felicem noctem_.
AMIN. _Claudite jam libros, pueri: sat, prata, bibistis_,
Look, when you come again, you tell me _ubi fuistis_.
He that minds trish-trash, and will not have care of his _rodix_.
Him I will be-lish-lash, and have a fling at his _podix_.
[_Exeunt_ BOYS.
_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR.
Y. ART. A pretty wench, a passing pretty wench.
A sweeter duck all London cannot yield;
She cast a glance on me as I pass'd by,
Not Helen had so ravishing an eye.
Here is the pedant Sir Aminadab;
I will inquire of him if he can tell
By any circumstance, whose wife she is:
Such fellows commonly have intercourse
Without suspicion, where we are debarr'd.
God save you, gentle Sir Aminadab!
AMIN. _Salve tu quoque_! would you speak with me?
You are, I take it, and let me not lie,
For, as you know, _mentiri non est meum_,
Young Master Arthur; _quid vis_--what will you?
Y. ART. You are a man I much rely upon;
There is a pretty wench dwells in this street
That keeps no shop, nor is not public known:
At the two posts, next turning of the lane,
I saw her from a window looking out;
O, could you tell me how to come acquainted
With that sweet lass, you should command me, sir,
Even to the utmost of my life and power.
AMIN. _Dii boni, boni_! 'tis my love he means;
But I will keep it from this gentleman,
And so, I hope, make trial of my love. [_Aside_.]
Y. ART. If I obtain her, thou shalt win thereby
More than at this time I will promise thee.
AMIN. _Quando venis aput_, I shall have two horns on my _caput_.
[_Aside_.]
Y. ART. What, if her husband come and find one there?
AMIN. _Nuncquam time_, never fear,
She is unmarried, I swear.
But, if I help you to the deed,
_Tu vis narrare_ how you speed.
Y. ART. Tell how I speed? ay, sir, I will to you:
Then presently about it. Many thanks
For this great kindness, Sir Aminadab. [_Exit_.
AMIN. If my _puella_ prove a drab,
I'll be reveng'd on both: _ambo_ shall die;
Shall die! by what? for _ego_ I
Have never handled, I thank God,
Other weapon than a rod;
I dare not fight for all my speeches.
_Sed cave_, if I take him thus,
_Ego sum expers_ at untruss.
[_Exit_.
SCENE II.
_A Room in Justice Reason's House_.
_Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, OLD MASTER LUSAM,
MISTRESS ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ HUGH.
O. ART. We, Master Justice Reason, come about
A serious matter that concerns us near.
O. LUS. Ay, marry, doth it, sir, concern us near;
Would God, sir, you would take some order for it.
O. ART. Why, look ye, Master Lusam, you are such another,
You will be talking what concerns us near,
And know not why we come to Master Justice.
O. LUS. How? know not I?
O. ART. No, sir, not you.
O. LUS. Well, I know somewhat, though I know not that;
Then on, I pray you.
JUS. Forward, I pray, [and] yet the case is plain.
O. ART. Why, sir, as yet you do not know the case.
O. LUS. Well, he knows somewhat; forward, Master Arthur.
O. ART. And, as I told you, my unruly son,
Once having bid his wife home to my house,
There took occasion to be much aggriev'd
About some household matters of his own,
And, in plain terms, they fell in controversy.
O. LUS. 'Tis true, sir, I was there the selfsame time,
And I remember many of the words.
O. ART. Lord, what a man are you! you were not there
That time; as I remember, you were rid
Down to the North, to see some friends of yours.
O. LUS. Well, I was somewhere; forward, Master Arthur.
JUS. All this is well; no fault is to be found
In either of the parties; pray, say on.
O. ART. Why, sir, I have not nam'd the parties yet,
Nor touch'd the fault that is complain'd upon.
O. LUS. Well, you touch'd somewhat; forward, Master Arthur.
O. ART. And, as I said, they fell in controversy:
My son, not like a husband, gave her words
Of great reproof, despite, and contumely,
Which she, poor soul, digested patiently;
This was the first time of their falling out.
As I remember, at the selfsame time
One Thomas, the Earl of Surrey's gentleman,
Din'd at my table.
O. LUS. I knew him well.
O. ART. You are the strangest man; this gentleman,
That I speak of, I am sure you never saw;
He came but lately from beyond the sea.
O. LUS. I am sure I know one Thomas;--forward, sir.
JUS. And is this all? Make me a _mittimus_,
And send the offender straightways to the jail.
O. ART. First know the offender--now[13] began the strife
Betwixt this gentlewoman and my son--
Since when, sir, he hath us'd her not like one
That should partake his bed, but like a slave.
My coming was that you, being in office
And in authority, should call before you
My unthrift son, to give him some advice,
Which he will take better from you than me,
That am his father. Here's the gentlewoman,
Wife to my son, and daughter to this man,
Whom I perforce compell'd to live with us.
JUS. All this is well; here is your son, you say,
But she that is his wife you cannot find.
Y. LUS. You do mistake, sir, here's the gentlewoman;
It is her husband that will not be found.
JUS. Well, all is one, for man and wife are one;
But is this all?
Y. LUS. Ay, all that you can say,
And much more than you can well put off.
JUS. Nay, if the case appear thus evident,
Give me a cup of wine. What! man and wife
To disagree! I prythee, fill my cup;
I could say somewhat: tut, tut, by this wine,
I promise you 'tis good canary sack.
MRS ART. Fathers, you do me open violence,
To bring my name in question, and produce
This gentleman and others here to witness
My husband's shame in open audience.
What may my husband think, when he shall know
I went unto the Justice to complain?
But Master Justice here, more wise than you,
Says little to the matter, knowing well
His office is no whit concern'd herein;
Therefore with favour I will take my leave.
JUS. The woman saith but reason, Master Arthur,
And therefore give her licence to depart.
O. LUS. Here is dry justice, not to bid us drink!
Hark thee, my friend, I prythee lend thy cup;
Now, Master Justice, hear me but one word;
You think this woman hath had little wrong,
But, by this wine which I intend to drink--
JUS. Nay, save your oath, I pray you do not swear;
Or if you swear, take not too deep an oath.
O. LUS. Content you, I may take a lawful oath
Before a Justice; therefore, by this wine--
Y. LUS. A profound oath, well-sworn, and deeply took;
'Tis better thus than swearing on a book.
O. LUS. My daughter hath been wronged exceedingly.
JUS. O, sir, I would have credited these words
Without this oath: but bring your daughter hither,
That I may give her counsel, ere you go.
O. LUS. Marry, God's blessing on your heart for that!
Daughter, give ear to Justice Reason's words.
JUS. Good woman, or good wife, or mistress, if you have done amiss, it
should seem you have done a fault; and making a fault, there's no
question but you have done amiss: but if you walk uprightly, and
neither lead to the right hand nor the left, no question but you have
neither led to the right hand nor the left; but, as a man should say,
walked uprightly; but it should appear by these plaintiffs that you
have had some wrong: if you love your spouse entirely, it should seem
you affect him fervently; and if he hate you monstrously, it should
seem he loathes you most exceedingly, and there's the point at which I
will leave, for the time passes away: therefore, to conclude, this is
my best counsel: look that thy husband so fall in, that hereafter you
never fall out.
O. LUS. Good counsel, passing good instruction;
Follow it, daughter. Now, I promise you,
I have not heard such an oration
This many a day. What remains to do?
Y. LUS. Sir, I was call'd as witness to this matter,
I may be gone for aught that I can see.
JUS. Nay, stay, my friend, we must examine you.
What can you say concerning this debate
Betwixt young Master Arthur and his wife?
Y. LUS. Faith, just as much, I think, as you can say,
And that's just nothing.
JUS. How, nothing? Come, depose him; take his oath;
Swear him, I say; take his confession.
O. ART. What can you say, sir, in this doubtful case?
Y. LUS. Why, nothing, sir.
JUS. We cannot take him in contrary tales,
For he says nothing still, and that same nothing
Is that which we have stood on all this while;
He hath confess'd even all, for all is nothing.
This is your witness, he hath witness'd nothing
Since nothing, then, so plainly is confess'd,
And we by cunning answers and by wit
Have wrought him to confess nothing to us,
Write his confession.
O. ART. Why, what should we write?
JUS. Why, nothing: heard you not as well as I
What he confess'd? I say, write nothing down.
Mistress, we have dismissed you; love your husband,
Which, whilst you do, you shall not hate your husband.
Bring him before me; I will urge him with
This gentleman's express confession
Against you; send him to me; I'll not fail
To keep just nothing in my memory.
And, sir, now that we have examin'd you,
We likewise here discharge you with good leave.
Now, Master Arthur and Master Lusam too,
Come in with me; unless the man were here,
Whom most especially the cause concerns,
We cannot end this quarrel: but come near,
And we will taste a glass of our March beer.
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE III.
_A Room in Mistress Mary's House_.
_Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO.
MRS MA. I prythee, tell me, Brabo, what planet, think'st thou, governed
at my conception, that I live thus openly to the world?
BRA. Two planets reign'd at once; Venus, that's you,
And Mars, that's I, were in conjunction.
MRS SPLAY. Prythee, prythee, in faith, that conjunction copulative is
that part of speech that I live by.
BRA. Ha, ha! to see the world! we swaggerers,
That live by oaths and big-mouth'd menaces,
Are now reputed for the tallest men:
He that hath now a black moustachio,
Reaching from ear to ear, or turning up,
_Puncto reverso_, bristling towards the eye;
He that can hang two handsome tools at his side,
Go in disguis'd attire, wear iron enough,
Is held a tall man and a soldier.
He that with greatest grace can swear Gog's-zounds,
Or in a tavern make a drunken fray,
Can cheat at dice, swagger in bawdy-houses,
Wear velvet on his face, and with a grace
Can face it out with,--As I am a soldier!
He that can clap his sword upon the board,
He's a brave man--and such a man am I.
MRS MA. She that with kisses can both kill and cure,
That lives by love, that swears by nothing else
But by a kiss, which is no common oath;
That lives by lying, and yet oft tells truth;
That takes most pleasure when she takes most pains;
She's a good wench, my boy, and so am I.
MRS SPLAY. She that is past it, and prays for them that may--
BRA. Is an old bawd, as you are, Mistress Splay.
MRS SPLAY. O, do not name that name; do you not know,
That I could ne'er endure to hear that name?
But, if your man would leave us, I would read
The lesson that last night I promis'd you.
MRS MA. I prythee, leave us, we would be alone.
BRA. And will, and must: if you bid me begone,
I will withdraw, and draw on any he,
That in the world's wide round dare cope with me.
Mistress, farewell! to none I never speak
So kind a word. My salutations are,
Farewell, and be hang'd! or, in the devil's name!
What they have been, my many frays can tell;
You cannot fight; therefore to you, farewell!
[Exit.
MRS MA. O, this same swaggerer is
The bulwark of my reputation; but,
Mistress Splay, now to your lecture that you promised me.
MRS SPLAY. Daughter, attend, for I will tell thee now
What, in my young days, I myself have tried;
Be rul'd by me, and I will make thee rich.
You, God be prais'd, are fair, and, as they say,
Full of good parts; you have been often tried
To be a woman of good carriage,
Which, in my mind, is very commendable.
MRS MA. It is indeed; forward, good Mother Splay.
MRS SPLAY. And, as I told you, being fair, I wish,
Sweet daughter, you were as fortunate.
When any suitor comes to ask thy love,
Look not into his words, but into his sleeve;
If thou canst learn what language his purse speaks,
Be ruled by that; that's golden eloquence.
Money can make a slavering tongue speak plain.
If he that loves thee be deform'd and rich,
Accept his love: gold hides deformity.
Gold can make limping Vulcan walk upright;
Make squint eyes straight, a crabbed face look smooth,
Gilds copper noses, makes them look like gold;
Fills age's wrinkles up, and makes a face,
As old as Nestor's, look as young as Cupid's.
If thou wilt arm thyself against all shifts,
Regard all men according to their gifts.
This if thou practise, thou, when I am dead.
Wilt say: Old Mother Splay, soft lie[14] thy head.
_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR.
MRS MA. Soft, who comes here? begone, good Mistress Splay;
Of thy rule's practice this is my first day.
MRS SPLAY. God, for thy passion, what a beast am I
To scare the bird, that to the net would fly!
[_Exit_.
Y. ART. By your leave, mistress.
MRS MA. What to do, master?
Y. ART. To give me leave to love you.
MRS MA. I had rather afford you some love to leave me.
Y. ART. I would you would as soon love me, as I could leave you.
MRS MA. I pray you, what are you, sir?
Y. ART. A man, I'll assure you.
MRS MA. How should I know that?
Y. ART. Try me, by my word, for I say I am a man;
Or by my deed I'll prove myself a man.
MRS MA. Are you not Master Arthur?
Y. ART. Not Master Arthur, but Arthur, and your servant,
sweet Mistress Mary.
MRS MA. Not Mistress Mary, but Mary, and your handmaid,
sweet Master Arthur.
Y. ART. That I love you, let my face tell you; that I love you more
than ordinarily, let this kiss testify; and that I love you fervently
and entirely, ask this gift, and see what it will answer you, myself,
my purse, and all, being wholly at your service.
MRS MA. That I take your love in good part, my thanks shall speak for
me; that I am pleased with your kiss, this interest of another shall
certify you; and that I accept your gift, my prostrate service and
myself shall witness with me. My love, my lips, and sweet self, are at
your service: wilt please you to come near, sir?
Y. ART. O, that my wife were dead! here would I make
My second choice: would she were buried!
From out her grave this marrigold should grow,
Which, in my nuptials, I would wear with pride.
Die shall she, I have doom'd her destiny. [_Aside_.]
MRS MA. 'Tis news, Master Arthur, to see you in such a place:
How doth your wife?
Y. ART. Faith, Mistress Mary, at the point of death,
And long she cannot live; she shall not live
To trouble me in this my second choice.
_Enter_ AMINADAB _with a bill and headpiece_.
MRS MA. I pray forbear, sir, for here comes my love:
Good sir, for this time leave me; by this kiss
You cannot ask the question at my hands
I will deny you: pray you, get you gone.
Y. ART. Farewell, sweet Mistress Mary! [_Exit_.
MRS MA. Sweet, adieu!
AMIN. Stand to me, bill! and, headpiece, sit thou close!
I hear my love, my wench, my duck, my dear,
Is sought by many suitors; but with this
I'll keep the door, and enter he that dare!
Virga, be gone, thy twigs I'll turn to steel;
These fingers, that were expert in the jerk;
Instead of lashing of the trembling _podex_,
Must learn pash and knock, and beat and mall,
Cleave pates and _caputs_; he that enters here,
Comes on to his death! _mors mortis_ he shall taste.
[_He hides himself_.
MRS MA. Alas! poor fool, the pedant's mad for love!
Thinks me more mad that I would marry him.
He's come to watch me with a rusty bill,
To keep my friends away by force of arms:
I will not see him, but stand still aside,
And here observe him what he means to do. [_Retires_.
AMIN. _O utinam_, that he that loves her best,
Durst offer but to touch her in this place!
_Per Jovem et Junonem! hoc_
Shall pash his coxcomb such a knock,
As that his soul his course shall take
To Limbo and Avernus' lake.
In vain I watch in this dark hole;
Would any living durst my manhood try,
And offer to come up the stairs this way!
MRS MA. O, We should see you make a goodly fray. [_Aside_.]